Curse of The Lot
by TheAnomally
Summary: A little combination of the book, and mini movies. What happens to Mark Petrie after he and Ben flee from Jerusalem's Lot? Barlow is a Master Vampire from another land, a type one Vampire, whose origins are mentioned in the Dark Tower series. What does this mean to us mere humans?
1. Author's Intro

I own nothing of the book, or TV mini Movies. I tried to take in several of the different aspects of the story from paper, to film. For instance in the book, Ben and Mark flee the town without burning down the big house on the hill...things like that. Hope you enjoy. :)


	2. Jerusalem's Lot

"GO ON…GET OUT OF HERE! "The Priest shouted at him. "RUN MARK!" Father Callahan yelled at him as he grabbed a hold of Mark.

Mark Petrie lay on his kitchen floor greedily sucking air into his lungs; his neck and throat ached painfully, and stars filled his vision. Barlow had held him by his neck and chin in midair; threatening to bite him.

Father Callahan was still shouting at him and pushing him towards the door; Mark rose on shaky legs and stumbled out of the mudroom and into the evening dim. He stopped at the edge of the yard wondering if he should go back; he knew Father Callahan was known more for his excess drinking over his rousing belief in God, or Jesus. The teen's heart was pounding so fast; his neck burned from the recent strain put on it.

Mark had felt no breath when Barlow talked. "You killed my attendant, you can take his place."

He touched his neck feeling the heat of the agitated skin; he shuttered at the memory of those sharp teeth plunging towards his neck. He closed his eyes tight trying to muster the strength to take action, any action. Should he try to help the Father who was no match for the lead Vampire, or should he run? Last time he tried to fight he ended up getting caught by Straker and Susan was corrupted.

In the house, Kurt Barlow smirked at the Priest who still held his crucifix aloft. This was no man of God or even strong faith, he was a lost man who fell into a bottle, and refused to climb back out. Barlow reached out and crushed the cross with no adverse effects; he then made Callahan drop to his knees, he then forced the man to drink his blood. This broken fool would make a suitable replacement servant; he even let out a slight chuckle. The old vampire had really wanted the boy, he was young, but he had proven himself clever. He had resisted the lure of one of his minions earlier, and then showed great strength by coming armed to the lair at the house. Barlow shoved the Priest away; the transformation would take a day.

Barlow looked out the window and spied Mark at the edge of the lawn; he licked his lips at the thought of the young blood he could partake. He had tasted it earlier at the house, Straker had bound the teenager well, and despite that he still managed to free himself. Barlow had roused himself on the blond woman's blood, and then went upstairs and found Straker injured, nearby was a high backed chair and thick ropes the binds where splashed in blood, but one section in particular was soaked in blood. Barlow had lifted the lash to his nose and reveled in the scent of blood mingled with fear, and mixed with youth. That was the best blood, spiced with terror, and pure innocence. He licked the blood; it was pure ecstasy he rolled the liquid on his tongue until it had all gone. The boy would be his, and he would take him by force, Barlow did enjoy the hunt.


	3. Hospital Detriot, MI

"The hunt is over." Ben had uttered.

He then had died; his heart had stopped. Mark was sure it was a combination of his injuries, and a broken heart. He had fallen deep for Susan, and Mark blamed himself for her destruction. He remembered Ben Mears cries as he had to stake the vampire Susan. It was his fault for not looking where he was going, Susan was going to attack him, it left Ben no choice.

They had intended to stop Father Callahan, they left Salem's Lot when the vampires were rising, and they planned on going back in the morning to burn the Marsten house to the ground. When they spied Callahan leaving they decided to follow him, knowing the lesser vamps now leaderless would be at the mercy of the town's quickly spreading fire. They followed the Father all the way to Detroit; where it did not take him long to acclimate himself into one of the homeless shelters. People in bad situations were put at ease around a friendly man of the cloth. Ben knew he had to act quickly before the bodies started piling up; so he acted quickly, attacking Callahan in broad daylight and sending the vampire watchdog and himself plummeting out a high window.

In the hospital Ben's injuries were grave, Mark stuck to the shadows; hiding from everyone at the hospital, the less they knew about him the better. The few chances Ben was alone Mark visited him, the older man delirious on pain killers; he had insisted that they flee to Mexico and become monks. Another time he spouted off about glowing holy water vampire detection, and an old Guatemalan Mission. In his lucid moments he had caught the ear of an intern who was willing to listen to their story. The man was totally enrapt with Ben's story of how they came to be here in the rough and tumble city.

With the distraction Mark took that time to destroy Father Callahan; he had bided his time long enough. It was a stroke of genius to place the monitor leads on the patient in the next bed. The teen felt nothing as he smothered the older Priest to death with a pillow.

"I can't believe it, it's all to…" The orderly had murmured as he looked Mark up and down.

Seeing the priest dead, had clued him in on the fact that Ben Mears wasn't alone, the part of the tale he needed to know was being filled in. Astonished the orderly had unlocked and let him enter a wing of the hospital that had been closed down. Ben was a very good yarn spinner, his fiction was phenomenal, but nothing beats the terror of a true story.

Mark tore down the darkened hall, hating that it was now getting dark. Barlow was dead; staked through the heart, Mark drew comfort in that knowledge. That is how all vampires bosses met their end, wooden stakes, that is what all the movies and books had shown him. He shuddered though remembering the piercing gaze from the master vampire, how it bored into his mind, robbing him of his confidence, and intelligence. He was all alone now; there was no one he could relate to in this world anymore. He had an Aunt in California, but could he really integrate himself back into an ordinary life? Where was he going to go now, there was still the matter of the Marsten house to deal with. The car was nearly dead and there was no way he could drive it back to the Lot without getting pulled over.


	4. The Town

It looked like the scene from some apocalypse based film; there were bodies and crashed cars everywhere; all if it and the buildings were engulfed in flames. The fire was being fueled by the nearby gas station which had been demolished by a school bus, as well as the winds. More engines and water tankers were arriving to help fight the fire. Chiefs were conferring and sending trucks and men all over the town to put out fires and try to find survivors. More explosions rocked the area as fuel and propane tanks blew up here and there, it was complete chaos. If it wasn't bad enough trying to fight the fire, now some firemen were missing. Above it all, the large dilapidated house on the hill seemed to chuckle and sigh.


	5. Hospital Exit

Lost in his thoughts Mark missed his exit; out of the hospital. He stopped and sagged against a wall; there was no one in this part of the medical center. He thought of his Mom, and the tears began to flow, he had not properly mourned her passing. Suddenly a sound shook him out of his sadness, it was foot falls. Did security sweep the parts of the hospital that were no longer in use? Suddenly the sounds stopped, Mark looked around. The shadows nearby seemed to be getting darker; or was his mind playing tricks on him? He straightened up and wiped the tears from his eyes; there was no reason to be afraid of the dark, Barlow was gone, and Callahan was dead. Maybe it was that orderly; maybe the man had changed his mind and was going to turn him in for murder. Mark started back to the exit; he tried to move quickly, but not too loudly. He spied the door as he turned the corner; but just then he felt a blinding pain in the back of his head, he heard laughter, and then he saw nothing at all.

His head was rife with pain, and it seemed the world was rocking under him. Mark went to hold his head but he found his hands bound at the wrists. His upper arms were also bound with rope around his chest, and his legs as well were tied up at the ankles and thighs. He was blindfolded and gagged with a rag and tape, the ground was indeed rocking under him as he found himself in a small dark place. His heart was racing as his terror started whipping his mind into a frenzy. He forced himself to calm down, he had been bound before and he got out of that. He worked his hands up to his mouth and ripped the tape off, he pulled and spit the gag out. The exertion was making his head hurt more and he feared he would pass out or throw up soon, but he had to keep working on the ropes. He found the knot and started trying to untie it with his teeth.


	6. The Lot, The Pit

The fire had been put out, the town wasn't a total loss, but much of the business area was gone, but if the people were willing it could be rebuilt. In the dark, in basements, crawl spaces, and other caves a new population was rising. They did not care about markets, banks, or schools they craved blood, and it was driving them insane. For a few days they had been chaotic, leaderless, but then they felt the Master come back. Roy McDougal hated the Lot, he hated that kid, and he hated his life. His transformation to a vampire had completed, and now he even had a BMW, things were looking up. He was about to murder his wife and baby when a calling sent him on another path. He ended up in the basement of the boarding house; some familiar faces were there. They were working to pile what seemed to be pieces of meat, dust, and a ring into a packing crate. He knew what he must do next; it did not bother him in the least to sacrifice Sandy, and that annoying infant to a greater purpose. The marble affixed in the ring turned into an eye, and the scattered debris morphed into a monster. The lesser vampires knew this was their master; he would soon change again after he got to feed. Barlow's skin was blue tinted, his ears were long and pointed, and his teeth were jagged and misshapen. Elongated clawed fingers gestured that they bring him more victims to feed upon. He would need a new servant and he knew exactly who he wanted to fill that now once again vacant position. Barlow's glowing eyes bore into Roy's and the vampire hissed and left.


	7. Binds and Gauze

The side of his head was sticky with blood, and his face was wet with sweat and tears. He had pushed the cloth covering his eyes partially up, but it hadn't done much good, it was dark and confining where ever he was now. He had gotten the knot loose and was pulling at it as best he could; during his struggle he had indeed passed out; it wasn't good that he was passing out, and his head hurt intensely. His mouth was dry, and the only reason he wasn't crying anymore was because he had run out of tears. His nausea was back in full force, he was also starving, he ached all over and he was exhausted. Next time he woke up it was because of a loud cracking noise; he heard muffled shouting. When his confined space enlarged he fought against the touches, not knowing who it was, then light filled his vision and he slipped into unconsciousness once again.

In the darkness he saw glowing eyes, heard laughter, suddenly hands reached out towards him. Mark woke with a start, he could see again, and he was lying in a bed. His head was bandaged; there was an IV drip in his hand, and he was dressed in a hospital gown. His vision was off a bit, and his face really hurt.

A police officer rushed in and pushed Mark back against the pillows. "Steady son, everything is OK. You're safe."

Mark did not answer the man right away, he was too busy struggling and looking around in fear. He was like this when they had found him, terrified and raring to fight. A nurse and a Doctor came in and tried to talk to him, but he was too scared. The doctor prescribed a slight sedative to calm Mark down; the nurse injected it in to his IV line. He started to feel relaxed, but his heart was still racing. It was like time was slowing down, but only in his head.

The officer released him as his struggles lessoned. "I am going to ask you some questions, just answer them if you can."

He seemed like a nice enough guy; Mark theorized he was a state trooper, or a city cop, not the sheriff like they had back in the Lot. Mark just blinked sluggishly at him.

The officer flipped open a note pad. "We'll start with an easy question. What's your name?"

"Mark Petrie.." Mark replied after a moment.

The officer jotted that down and nodded. "Nice to meet you Mark, I am Officer McKabe, Kris" he then asked another question. "Do you know where you are?"

"In bed….somewhere…hospital I guess." Mark replied.

The man nodded at him. "Very good, but more specific."

Mark only shook his head, since he had no clue where he was right now.

The man sighed. "You're in Durham; Durham, Maine. DO you know how you got here?"

"It was dark, my head hurt…I was tied up." Mark thought, and touched his bandaged head.

The officer was trying to think of a tactful way of telling him the truth. There had been a chase, the perp was in a stolen BMW, and they had apprehended the driver. While searching the vehicle the found him in the trunk, bloodied and tied up. Officer McKabe had seen some sorry people pass through his town, but the guy they had crossed swords with was a true dirt bag.

The officer took in a breath and told him of the events that happened before dawn. "Do you know…"

The man looked at the name they got off the cars registration. "Jim Cody?"

"He's dead." Mark said tears welling in his eyes.

The Doctor's body lying in the basement impaled on knives; his clothes absorbing the welling blood, a clever booby trap that had been created by the vampires.

He did not want to agitate the young man. "How about one Royce McDougall?"

"He's an A**hole." Mark blurted out. "Trailer park trash; has a wife, and baby." Mark struggled to reply.

His Mom had called Royce that a few times his name had come up in conversation. The officer nodded, it wouldn't be too hard to look up McDougall no doubt he had a record. He could tell that Mark was fighting the sedatives; the kid just did not want to relax. Who could blame him after all; the kid was scared, beaten up, tied up, and then hauled all over who knows where for who knows what. The officer decided not to push him anymore; least he could do was try to let the kid get some sleep.

"What time is it?" Mark asked suddenly.

The Officer look at his watch and could believe it was so late; after he and his partner hauled Royce u-cooperative butt to the jail, he had come to the hospital, and spent most the day watching the kid thrash in his sleep. "It's past 6PM.


	8. Blood and Dust

Royce fell into a deep sleep under the cot as soon as day came. If anyone came to see him he did not know, the slumber of the dammed is death like. When evening came Royce woke up and slithered out from his hidey hole, he called out to anyone. It wasn't that hard to trick the cops into opening the cell; he killed them both, he went to feed on them, he was stopped as other cops tried to stop him Royce fled the police station in a hail of bullets.

The Masters orders were burning in his brain. "Get the boy….Get the boy…GET THE BOY!"

He had taken such a beating tonight, the bullets and blood loss weighted him down as he returned to the Lot. Barlow was not happy; Roy was back without the boy. Roy reported on where he had been and showed him the stuff he lifted from the cops. Barlow pulled off Roy's head and drank until the simple minded vampire was no more. He threw the corpse out into the rising sun where it burst into flames and became dust.


	9. RUN!

AUTHORS NOTES: I sort of kept writing on this one; then forgot to upload it to FF...LOL sorry. Here is some more...

Night had come and gone; the Doctor had given him a sedative so he would sleep through the night. Mark looked at himself in the mirror; he looked awful. One side of his face was swollen, and his left eye was partially sealed. It was like after Straker had struck him with the board at the house, but this was worse. He looked at his arms and wrists; there were fresh cuts and rope burns from his struggles with his binds. Despite the injuries he was more upset at the officer's insistence that he stay in the hospital; that insistence became an order when the cop had returned the next day. He had answered more questions, the best he could, and the best he figured that wouldn't get him thrown into the loony bin. The hospital food was terrible; but the officer was nice, and he managed to sneak him a few sodas from the machine down the hall. Royce had escaped, but was nowhere to be found. Mark was frightened by that, but the officer distracted him enough that he didn't think about it too much. The sponge bath he got was mortifying; the bandage change and wound check hurt viscously. He kept an eye on the time as best he could; he fell asleep again in the early afternoon, no doubt helped by whatever it was they were putting in his IV.

He refused to pee in the bed pan; it was so embarrassing, so the cop allowing him a little dignity and helped him into his rooms little bathroom.

The officer called to him, he was just on the other side of the door. "You OK in there boy…um I mean Mark?"

"Yea…just finishing up." Mark answered back eventually.

Mark sighed and grabbed his IV stand; he flushed the toilet and opened the door. He stepped out and was surprised to find a hand clamped around his throat; it was Barlow. Mark yelped in surprise; but it was cut off as he was lifted into the air. The teen held on to the vampire's arm and made little mewling and coughing sounds.

Barlow drew him in close. "Master Petrie, surprised to see me?"

Horror movies had scared him back when he was a kid, when he grew up they became more of a novelty he respected the classics, and the old Creepshow comics, but this was too much. There was no way ever a staked vampire could survive, not in any comic, or movie ever made.

"N…No stop! I didn't invite you in!" Mark wheezed.

Barlow laughed. "You didn't, but the constabulary did!" He showed Mark the downed form of the officer, he then tangled the fingers of his other hand into the teen's hair "If anyone comes through that door I will KILL them! You understand, I will open their throats and it will be YOUR fault!"

"Please don't…" Mark pleaded and tried to stifle his fear

Barlow lowered him to the ground, and looked at him. "How many servants of mine will you dispatch before you learn?" The fingers on his throat loosened enough to stroke the skin slightly. "I've lived so long here, many of your moons, and YOU young man have been the most troublesome human I have ever run across." The master vampire brought his lips close to Mark's ear. "I will have a fine time breaking you."

The vampire lifted his head to bite Mark when a gunshot sounded off. The officer had come to and shot Barlow through the head. The vampire's grip loosened enough for Mark to wrench himself out of the Vampire's hands; his IV stand toppled over and the needle ripped free.

The officer threw open the door and shoved Mark into the hallway. "RUN!"

Mark knew what was going to happen; the cop was going to die because he had no clue what he was up against. Alive with adrenaline, Mark flew down the hall and tried to find the exit.

Barlow's voice invaded his mind. "No matter how far you run, I will find you!"

Mark's head was pounding, and he was sure Barlow had reopened the wound on his head. He ran into the stairwell and headed down; sure that's where and exit would be. He burst through a door at the end of the stairs and found himself outside. He didn't know if this was better or worse, it was cold, and he was in a hospital gown and slipper socks. The door shut and locked behind him, so he ran away with no real direction or goal.


	10. Type One

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Kurt Barlow according to King is a creature who lives in the realm visited in the Dark Tower series; he is a type one Vampire. They are resilient; and have lived a very long time.

The Master Vampire looked down the barrel of the officer's weapon and chuckled. His pale eyes glowed to life as he bore them into the other man's eyes.

"W…What are you?!" He asked as he felt his strength leaving him.

Barlow noticed he had fresh blood on his hands; he dabbed it on his lips and savored the taste; he cleaned his fingers and, then he looked again at the officer; who was trying to fight out of his stupor.

Barlow slapped the weapon out of the cop's hands. "I am the beginning, and the end."

"Bastard…" The Kris muttered as he was rendered unarmed and helpless.

Barlow chuckled. "The Man in Black is one of those; I on the other hand am more than your simple mind can comprehend."

Kris felt the crushing force of the vampire's hand over his mouth and then he saw no more.


	11. Sleep and Memories

Mark ran through a field and a small wooden glade; he fell a lot, over roots and rocks. His head was pounding like a kettle drum, and his lungs were threatening to burst. He clumsily climbed a wooden fence, and fell to the ground on the other side. He pulled himself to his feet, and tried to keep going, but his legs were tired, and his energy was spent. Ahead of him was a quaint little church, the kind you find all over the area, wooden, built by pilgrims, colonialists, or puritans. Used as a place to worship, but also as a meeting house for the town. The lights were on, but Mark didn't try the door, instead he rounded the side and sagged in a shadowed corner near a shaft of light coming from inside. He hugged his knees to his chest. Maybe it was his fatigue, or maybe he was finally cracking up, but he started to laugh. He started to remember something not too long ago.

Mark had invited Danny Glick over to watch a bunch of horror movies, Ralphie had tagged along like he always did. They were watching their third thriller, Mark was laughing at the stupidity of the would be victims in the movies. How they just ran like idiots and eventually got ripped to shreds by the monsters. Danny was a little freaked out, but Ralphie was scared. In one of the scenes the girl was running from a masked killer, but instead of running out of her house she ran upstairs.

"That is such bullshit; no person in their right mind would do that!" Mark commented.

Mark looked around glad that his Mom hadn't heard him swear; she was scarier than all the monster movie villains combined.

Danny laughed. "Yea but she a girl, and they panic more than guys do."

"If I was her I'd arm myself, stop acting like such a chick and FIGHT!" He shouted at the TV. "Big house has to have lots of junk that can be made into weapons, same with those ones in the camps. Grab a tree branch, or a fence post, or something and wail on their asses!" Mark said and grabbed more popcorn.

Mark's Mom filled the doorway, "Mark Petrie I KNOW I just did not hear you say what you just said, YOUNG MAN!"

His laughter became sobs as he remembered how the Glicks had bailed, and his Mom gave him such a tongue lashing.


	12. Abigale

Abigale Lounds loved chasing fireflies, the grassy spots around their church was always teeming with them when the weather was warm. The meeting her mother was at was going on forever, and she was bored. She left the church and decided to see if she could see if the fireflies came back early; she figured her Mom would not mind as long as she stayed close by. It was dark as she walked around the building, the stars were twinkling, and she could see her breath. She had stopped as something caught her eye; she bent over to investigate, when she heard her Mom call her.

Before her Mother could scold her she spoke up. "Mom there is a boy in a dress, and slippers lying in the grass over there."


	13. Nice People

"He's probably one of those kids that keep escaping that cult, can't believe adults would be so ignorant to that sort of thing." A woman said in hushed tones.

Another answered her. "I thought they disbanded ages ago. I think that's boy they brought in from that awful traffic stop the other night."

"We'll know soon enough, Nan is trying to reach her husband, he's friends with Kris the trooper that has been keeping an eye on the boy." Another lady pipped in. "Such a shame, I heard he won't say where he is from, he's probably a hoodlum. With that mop of wild hair, and he did escape from the hospital. "

A fourth woman spoke harshly. "Honestly Jayne you judge and think the worst about people, he's just a child." The woman continued. "When he wakes you best keep your mouth shut; last thing the poor dear needs is you being all high and mighty." She then continued. "He had a pretty bad head injury, he's probably got amnesia, or has trauma associated with the whole event."

"Well I can see I can't say anything right, I am leaving." The third lady huffed. "Come Abigale we're leaving." She left; her heavy foot falls making the floor creak.

Mark decided to open his eyes, he was wrapped in a quilt, and lying on a bench in the main room of the church, the warmth was nice. He then heard more frustrated voices nearby; here like at home cell reception was spotty at best. He sat up quickly; the quilt fell to the floor as he stood up, he wavered on his feet a little. The ladies gathered tried to get him to lie back down; but he wouldn't, he hadn't wanted to come in, in the first place.

"I…I have to go.." Mark muttered and backed away from everyone; he didn't want anyone else to get hurt, and Barlow's threat was still fresh in his mind.

No amount of calm voices would calm him down; he needed to finds an exit; he spied a door and went through it, but it only led into another room. This one was small and filled with folded clothes; Mark felt bad but he couldn't continue his escape dressed in a hospital gown and light slippers. He found some jeans, a t-shirt, socks, and a hoodie that fit him fine. It took longer to find the right sized pair of shoes; once dressed he drew in a deep breath and readied himself just avoid everyone and to run out the main door. When he opened the door, everyone was waiting, but just then he then heard someone enter the room saying the land line just died while she was waiting for someone to pick up on the other end. Mark's breath caught in his throat that sounded all too familiar; just then lights suddenly went out, Mark backed away from everyone and the windows; his panic was starting to rise again.

"G...G…GET AWAY FROM THE WINDOWS!" he said urgently. _"_ _He can't come into a church; he can't come into a church."_ He was chanting in his mind.

Suddenly the whole building began to shake; crosses and icons fell from the walls and hit the floor, pews rocked and some fell over, windows and walls cracked. The doors to the outside swung open forcefully; they then swung closed, then flew open again and stayed open.

A woman spoke up. "I have a flashlight."

A bright beam tore through the darkness, revealing everyone standing around looking shocked. Shadows were chased away except for in one area.

"What is that?" Someone said.

Another woman piped up. "It looks like some sort of animal."

Just then the inkiness began to move and grow; the ladies watched in awe as it took the form of a person. Just then Barlow's hand lashed out and grabbed two of the women and slammed their heads together with such force that their skulls caved in on impact. Everyone screamed and backed away; Barlow looked at everyone with his glowing white gaze.

He clasped his hands together and did a little bow. "Ladies."

No one was moving, everyone was holding their breath, and staring at the bodies lying at Barlow's feet.

Barlow started to chuckle when a piercing alarm sounded off; it shook everyone out of their shock. The ladies ran for the door, as Barlow leapt on to the ceiling and looked down. The vampire hissed at Mark, who stood by the fire alarm switch, the teen huffed out a relieved sigh as everyone made it outside safely; he hoped they would stay safe. Mark found he back exit and dashed off into the night; he was at a loss as to where he was, what time it was, but he knew had to stay away from others. He wandered tiredly around through fields, and through small glades until he could see the starts of dawn rising.


	14. New Straker

Mark came to a road and ran to cross it without looking or really being aware of anything. There was squealing of tires, and he was blinded by bright headlights and then flashing emergency lights. Least the driver had been paying attention; the truck veered around Mark, and came to a halt at an odd angle in the road.

"CHRIST BOY, watch where you're going!" The man shouted as he opened his door, and shook his fists. "I couldda killed you, ya know!" He then said.

The man was shaking with anger, and advancing on Mark when suddenly he stopped. He retreated back to his vehicle and then drove off, as another car came along and stopped; this one had red and blue police lights flashing. The spot light on the side of the car flashed to life and was swiveled until it pointed at Mark. The light was incredible bright; Mark shielded his eyes and tried to step out of the brilliance, he heard a car door slam, but he still couldn't see anything. From behind a hand clamped on to his should and spun him around; it was an officer in a brown uniform.

"Officer….?" Mark stammered.

There was cruelness in the other man's gaze; intensely he started down at the teenager. He reached on his belt and pulled something off it, he now held a pair of cuffs in his hand.

Mark tried to pull away but he couldn't shake the officer's grip; he felt himself get steered then harshly shoved into the side of the patrol unit.

"Please…don't." Mark winced stunned at the brutality; he was also winded as what breath he had was pushed out of him, he sank to the road coughing.

The man trying to pull him up, but Mark lunged to the side and tried to run away. The officer was not exhausted or out of too out of shape and he tackled Mark to the ground easily; he then hauled the teenager up, and twisted the youths arm behind his back to show he meant business. Mark yelped, and the official forced him back to the car. The enrapt officer worked quickly slapping the cuffs onto Mark's wrists; he balled his hand into Mark's hoodie and dragged him forward then sideways. He turned and pushed Mark against the rear of the cruiser, and opened the back door.

"Someone help me." Mark gasped as he was pulled and then shoved belly first into the car this time. "Please help…." He whimpered trying to take in a breath.

The man then unceremoniously shoved the gasping teen into the back seat; he then produced zip tie cuffs and clamped them on Mark's ankles, before the youth could right himself. The man gave no response to Mark's whimpers, tears, and protests; he slammed the car door trapping Mark inside. He opened the other door and finished his work by placing tape over Mark's mouth.

The officer smiled and looked into Mark's wide eyes. "Try to chew your way out of these bonds."

Mark sobbed as the door was slammed, and the cop got into the driver's seat, and took off. He tried to free himself remembering some tip he heard on TV once about how to get out of cuffs and leg restraints, but he was just too tired and terrified to make any head way. As he struggled, the cop slammed on the brakes throwing Mark off the seat on to the floor; he grunted as his head, and arm hit the solid divider, and he passed out hearing the officer chuckle darkly.

The drive took a few hours and thankfully after a little forceful persuasion the brat in back finally piped down. He had been promised a lot of money by the man in the richly embroidered vest; by just the look of his clothes, the cop could tell this guy was from riches. After being in law enforcement for years he discovered that crime paid much better than justice; at the end of the day what motivated him the most was the all mighty dollar. He finally reached the destination and turned the car on to a dirt driveway. The drive wound through over grown hedges, and through an ornate iron gate that needed a little repair. Once the path widened revealing a mansion that too was in a state of disrepair; he angled the car by the house and cut the engine.

The officer huffed. "What a dump."

He got out of the car and hauled open the back door without looking; He was surprised when a set of feet collided with his chest. The officer stumbled back; his air jolted out of his lungs, the ground impact with his back made it harder for him to take in a breath. He struggled to breathe and make sense of what just happened.

Mark wiggled around and got out of the car, his legs were still bound, and his wrists were still cuffed, but he was not going to be some lamb led to slaughter. He hopped away the best he could hoping to find some sort of incline to roll down, it may injure him, but he would be on his way to some sort of escape. He spied the downhill opposite of the house; just a few more hops and he could just lie down and roll. He bid for freedom was cut short when a hand clamped on his shoulder and spun him around; something impacted with his face causing stars in his brain to explode.

The officer got up, and he cursed loudly. He caught up to Mark in just a few strides; grabbing the teen by his shoulder he spun the bound kid around and slugged him hard across the face. The dark haired youth dropped like a sack of potatoes; and lay on the ground stunned and blinking.

The officer stood over the kid and smirked. "God damned little punk, you ruined my good uniform!"

He then bent over and grabbed a fist full of cloth and punched the kid again. He had been sucker kicked by some no good kid, he didn't care if he had damaged the little jerk. This simple task was becoming a real annoyance; he was going to hit up the rich guy for double what he had first agreed on.

Blood was trickling out of the kid's nose; the cop resisted the urge to spit on him. "Serves you right!"

Satisfied the kid was out for the count; he hoisted the teen over his shoulder, and carried him inside. Mark moaned pitifully as he was jerked up and then hoisted over into an upside down position.


	15. Escaping Again

Mark slowly came to; his face and head were hurting. He could hear soft scurrying noises coming from all around him. He tried to move, but he couldn't move his arms too far. He opened his eyes and noticed the dim empty room around him. His wrists were now zip tied in front of him; he was tied to a chair with thick ropes beyond that. He blinked trying to remove the pain and fog in his brain and he went to work loosening the elaborate rope web that bound him. He relaxed and felt the ropes slacken; the cop was tough but he was no restraint genius. After a bit of time he got the ropes off and then started to work on the plastic belt on his wrists; he tightened the tie a bit more and then moved the locking mechanism between his hands, he drew in a deep breath raised his arms over his head and brought them down into his stomach. The plastic tie did not break; he whimpered a but trying to remember how it looked in the book he read, and he tried it again but flared his elbows out a bit, this time the plastic snapped and fell off. Mark breathed a sigh of relief; he was about to work on the plastic ties on his legs when the door swung open. The sound of the door hitting the wall made a loud echo that seemed to fill the room; Mark winced at the pain this brought to his head.

The cop strode in and saw that Mark had almost broken free. "You little annoying shit! I outta beat your stupid head in!"

Mark yelped as the cop roughly grabbed him, and was about to punch him when a warm we spray hit him in the face. Mark watched as the cop staggered back; through the man's chest was a clawed hand, and in that hand was a heart. The red muscle even beat a few times before it ceased; the cop looked at Mark.

The hand retreated back through the hole; and Barlow appeared at the man's shoulder. "I told you unharmed!"

Barlow reached around and sliced into the man neck with his claw like fingernails; the man's head dangled down on what flesh remained after the gouging. Mark yelped and fell backwards back into the chair, but he couldn't get away from the heart, or the carnage. Mark rocked back hard and tipped the chair over backwards; the back hit the floor and broke, and Mark freed his legs and stood up.

Barlow finished and let the dead man fall to the floor; he looked at Mark and smiled. "Good help is so hard to find, these days."

Mark knew not to look at Barlow, so he dashed out of the room as fast as he could. He had no clue the lay out of this new lair, all he discerned was he needed to find the exit and fast. He found a set of stairs but they led up; he did not want up, or at least he did think he did. Upstairs is where all the panicky chicks ran, and they always ended up skewered. He shook his head trying to get his mush mind to work sharper; this was no horror flick, this was reality. He wavered on his feet and then went down the hall and shut himself in the nearest room; he locked the door, and caught sight of himself in the mirror. He was covered in blood; he used his sleeve to wipe it off the best he could.

Barlow's voice rang out beyond the door. "Come out; come out, where ever you are."

There was knocking at the door that soon became pounding; Mark backed away from the door. The window in the bathroom was too small to fit through; he was trapped, cornered like a rat. The door exploded inwards at him; Mark hit the floor and covered his head with his arms; he coughed at all the sawdust and dust. Near his feet lay a splintered shard of door; one end was sharp, and he picked it up.

Barlow walked into the room. "Mark, Mark, Mark…" He tutted. "Such a willful and wild child."

Mark stood up, and tried to press himself deeper into the wall. He avoided Barlow's eyes the best that he could.

Barlow looked at the teen. "Look at me Mark."

"NO!" Mark said forcefully. "I'm not going to be some mindless parasite, feeding and kissing your ass, and I won't be your lapdog!" He shouted.

Mark was looking towards Kurt Barlow, but not looking at him. Barlow reflected on the rebellious, resourceful, and defiant child. The boy was terrified, and yet quite angry; the vampire could smell it filling the small room. He hadn't fed recently, and this mixed scent of blood, fear, and defiance was intoxicating.

Barlow sighed. "You won't have a choice." He then laughed. "I can feel your mind; I know you can feel me."

"No…" Mark said, but couldn't deny it truthfully.

Right before Ben had staked Barlow; he looked into the vampire's eyes. Now when he closed his own eyes, that was all he saw those cold golden eyes, and he could hear the vampire's voice in his mind. He forced that feeling away, and focused on his anger; the memory of his Mother's death at this monster's hands.

"EEAAAAGGGHHH!" Mark roared, brandished his stake, and rushed head long at the beast before him.

Barlow caught the stake and boy easily; he grasping Mark around the neck, he tossed the piece of wood down the hall. The vampire then lifted Mark into the air again with ease; the teen made strangled choking noises as his air was restricted.

Barlow shook his head. "Our journey has come full circle Master Petrie."

Mark could not respond, instead he kicked out at Barlow, and caught the vampire in the stomach. Barlow grunted slightly and threw Mark to the floor. Mark sucked air back into his lungs, but his reprieve was short lived as Barlow pressed him to the floor planting a knee in his back. He placed his hand on the back of Mark's neck, and leaned over the teen and chuckled darkly while stroking his hair with his free hand.

Barlow sighed. "The hunt was exquisite, and your fight was admirable, but all good soldiers must meet their marker sooner or later."

Barlow then hauled him and slammed his head and back into a nearby wall; he pressed his weight into the teen's chest. The boy blinked and sort of sagged a bit; the teen was wide eyed but not really focusing. The vampire took the opportunity and grabbed the boy's arm; he raked his claw over Mark's wrist marking a deep gash. The blood welled up, and ran freely over the warm flesh, and Barlow drank deeply from the sliced veins.

Mark struggled but it was like having a horse stand on top of you; he took in small unsatisfying breaths. He choked and gasped stunned at the sudden thrashing. He felt a cold hand grab his arm, then there was a burning pain across the underside of his wrist; he tried to cry out but the only thing to escape his was a garbled yelp. He was finally was able to suck air into his lungs; he tried to pull his arm away from the pain, but there was no budging it or the vampire. The more Mark moved or struggled the harder Barlow held onto him; soon he felt like his wrist was being held in a double vice. He then started to feel nauseated, then very tired, he then the dizziness made his needs to throw up worse. His fight became weaker and weaker as the blood was pulled out of his body. His world view started to tip sideways as he slipped down to the floor; warm tears slithered down his face. He didn't feel it when his arm was let go; suddenly Barlow was filling his vision; those piercing eyes catching his before he could sluggishly move them away. The small glance was enough; he could see them glowing in the after image when he blinked, and he could feel those eyes in his brain eating at his will.


	16. A New Game

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I gave blood way back when and then like an idiot I went running around the park with some friends; I was only down a pint, but I could barely breath, and my head was spinning. Figure for a taste Barlow would take a little over a pint but not two.

Barlow's voice sounded off again. "I have changed my mind." The vampire almost sounded giddy or drunk. "Our Journey has just begun Master Petrie." He then chuckled. "As you would say, the fun has only just begun."

Barlow grabbed a hold of Mark's collar, and dragged him down the hall, found a suitable room. He tossed the limp boy into it and closed and locked him inside; the vampire knew that a mere four walls would not hold him, but the thought of hunting down the youth again excited him. He also needed to get a few things to make the game more fun.

Mark could only think disgustedly, that he would not be caught dead saying something so lame. Barlow left him locked in a room; Mark tried to move but every movement was met with extreme dizziness, and nausea. He spent the majority of the night passed out, or trying to roll over without too much discomfort. His wrist hurt, but amazingly it had been tended to, it was wrapped securely in a bandage. Sun streamed through the window and glared right into his eyelids making him see red. He slowly opened them, relieved that he was not in pain, or smoldering because of it. He sat up quickly, but that was a huge mistake, light-headedness was overwhelming. He curled up into a ball until it passed; this time he sat up slowly. He felt weak, thirsty, hungry, but otherwise, as he classified it, un-vampire-like. Careful not to bring on another dizzy spell; he slowly rose and stumbled a bit as he stood, and he felt off but not ready to keel over. He moved his right foot, and heard a hissing dragging noise. Looking down he finally felt and saw the manacle clamped on his ankle; looking from it he followed the thick plate and fixture on the wall with a rope tied to it. He stumbled and fell back onto his rear; he tried to slips the clamp off his leg but it wouldn't budge beyond his foot. He pulled at the rope, but all he managed to do was make himself dizzy; the exertion made his chest burn horribly. He sat for a moment and realized what Barlow had meant; he looked at his bandaged arm, and thought how easy it would be to unwind the gauze and just start the whole thing bleeding again. He would be dead; free to rejoin his mother, and his friends in the great beyond, whatever that was. He raised his hand to rip the bandaging free, but he found he could not go beyond that, he wasn't suicidal.

First thought he had to take care of himself, he looked around and found that his leash was long enough to permit him to go to the bathroom, he relieved himself, washed up, drank enough water to have to go again, and then he reviewed at his situation. He was locked in a room on the third floor; it was a sheer drop to the ground with no hand holds, or tree to utilize as climbing aides. He shuddered, when the thought about pulling, cutting, or chewing through his own foot to escape the manacle. The rope was connected to the wall by a thick iron plate that was bolted to a thick timber that ran up the wall; it seemed like decoration, but it looked like a solid timber. He had nothing to cut the rope, and the fibers were sound without any fraying anywhere. He dug at it and tried to loosen the bolts with no useful tools he found himself just spent and tired. Any exertion he performed reminded him of his recent bout of blood loss; he had no eaten in a while either, so that did not help. Wrapping the lash around his hands he pulled; he was trying to either snap the rope, or pull the whole damn thing out of the wall, and at this point he didn't care whether he brought the ceiling down on his head.

"Come on you motherf…" he grumbled as he pulled.

He turned, put his back into it and pulled with all his might; at first it seemed like nothing was giving, until he heard a cracking noise. He fought his dizziness and kept heaving, his chest was starting to ache, but he continued lugging. There was a louder snapping noise, then he felt the resistance give and he stumbled forward, and hit the wall. He waited on the floor huffing and puffing while he waited for all his ill feelings to pass; there was no way he could do something like that again. He slowly sat up and then stood up; he was still gasping as he looked at the door as if mentally hoping to break it down.

"YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME LOCKED IN HERE STARVING TO DEATH, YOU ASSHOLE!" Mark shouted.

He broke windows, threw things, and used his chain plate to damage the walls; his tantrum rendered him dizzy. He stumbled around then he lashed out at the door, using his body, and his leash to try to break it down.

"LET ME OUT OF HERE; YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" He shouted in anger.

Just as his heart felt like it was going to burst, there was a splintering noise, and he flew out of the room and into the wall. He crumpled to the ground in a heap; he curled into a ball, everything hurt and he felt like his chest was going to rupture. He gasped, trying to take a deep breath but he couldn't; his eyes rolled back as he passed out.

Mark woke up Barlow was standing over him. Tut, Tut, I expected so much more from you."

Mark rolled his eyes and flipped the vampire off weakly. Barlow dragged him down the hall, and threw him in another room and locked the door. Mark hit the floor hard and simply passed out again; he felt awful.


End file.
